Proudest Thrift Store Finds

The chain on this vintage kisslock purse broke a while back, so after I repaired it I strung hemp twine through it for reinforcement. It's one of my favorites, ever.
Yeah, that's my footprint on these real wood and leather wedges. I wore them to death. They were $13 at Secrets inside Mamo Mart.
Size L, required a small seam intake, easy stuff.
An amazing book for $0.65!
This sheer white blouse scrunches up at the bottom and flounces out a little.

There was a small tear in the slit at the top, which my daddy repaired with that little triangle from the inside hem.

Vintage Hawaiian dress from the '60s. It's sort of difficult to wear seriously, but I love the fabric.
A genuine Coach handbag ... for $3. One of the straps was damaged, but fixable.

This is really nothing special, and the lid is missing, but I think it's pretty. I bought it for flower arranging class.
People really like this dress when I wear it. It's Rampage brand, but it's probably from the '90s.
This one's really good quality! No brand label, but it's well-sewn and lined.
The Salvation Army is my go-to for really great vintage belts.
A little PVC Asian-print clutch ...
... never used.


my life is stupid

I'm here because I don't know what else to do.

Things I like about school:
- Clement
- my friends
- the train station is close
- bunnies
- squirrels
- pretty trees
- Dr. Les Baltimore
- Professor Costello
- Professor Axelrod
- Earle has an elevator
- free condoms
- free shuttle
- Mirirai's Coffeehouses
- ...

What I hate about school:
- everything else.



My body feels like my particles built a wall. I'm holding him but I'm not melting into him.

Time heals all wounds, time heals all wounds.


PSA: 4th Floor Girls

If you pee by squatting over the toilet bowl, YOU DO NOT NEED THE SEAT.
I'm tired of you bitches with terrible aim pissing all over the seat, rendering it unusable by those of us who know your filthy cell phone has more germs than the average toilet seat, and actually sit on the damn thing.
Put the seat up, dirty despicable females.


Dear Indie Hipster Musicians,

Please put down your ukuleles.





I get pretty emotional during Sacre du Printemps. When Meg/Arielle is running around exposed I almost cry, nearly every run, which is saying a lot because I've seen the show repeatedly.

I also cry at the thought of my cat Bob dying while I'm away at college. I hope that never happens.

And I feel like crying because I bought myself a toy at Urban Outfitters that I don't even like anymore, and the Toys 4 Tots drive starts tomorrow, and I wish I never opened it so I could donate it.


I don't like dealing with customers and I don't like getting up every day and being forced to dance

Burnout burnout
I already clocked out

I don't know what to do
when I don't
give a shit


There's only one of me.

Something has to give. I'm either going to flunk or lose my job, definitely be poor and homeless, as well as hungry, and sick forever. Everybody demands all my time and energy, and I try to juggle it all, but eventually I'm going to drop something, or all of it.


Wow, record time. It only took me four weeks this year to be miserable and hate everything


Courtesy 101

HEY, guys, it's time for a basic courtesy lesson. And I do mean basic. Things your mother should have taught you when you were a little sprout, and if she didn't, yo' mama sucks. That's right, I am dissing YO' MAMA.

1. If there's someone within a few paces of you, hold the door for them. Otherwise it makes for a really awkward door-catching moment for them and slows down traffic. Definitely do this if the person is crippled, carrying a lot of items, or higher-up than you. In other words old, or they give you a grade or money. But do it for everyone, or you're a lazy jerk. Also, it is really annoying when you walk into a dorm and let the door shut and lock in front of my face, so I have to dig my key out of my book bag, when it would have been so easy for you to just hold it open for two seconds.

2. GTFO of the way. I'm so glad you ran into your friend you haven't seen since 2:36 p.m. yesterday and you have a lot to catch up on, but can you please step to the side to discuss these important matters like what Lady GaGa wore to the VMAs? Seriously, I have places to go. Even when I don't have places to go, I like to walk at a reasonably brisk pace. I think it should be legal to kick and/or shove people who are blocking a path out of the way.

3. Don't race people to the line. That is just immature and chickenshit. If I'm done "shopping" and I'm holding my food and I have my payment ready to go, please don't grab your last thing and run to get in front of me. That is asshole behavior.

4. This is for dancers. Whatever barre space there is when you get there is what you get. You do not get to come in to the studio AFTER someone and wedge yourself into the spot you want. If they get there first, IT IS THEIR SPOT. I don't understand what is so complicated or unfair about this. If you want that spot so badly, hustle your ass to class and be there before I am, Jesus Christ!

5. Shut the hell up when someone else is talking.

Practice these five easy steps and soon, more advanced courteous moments will illuminate themselves for you!

Also, fuck everyone, because you are all assholes.


Now I really feel like trying. Not.

I promise you I'm never going to be Modern level 3 material, therefore I shall forever be level 2 everything until the day they get their shit together and arrange a schedule in which you can be two in one thing and three in another.


It's coming!

It's really jarring to look at my calendar's to-do list and see only "Call Work"; "Pack"; and "Move-In Day."

The latest crop of modeling photos.

I'm starting to feel like I'm making progress. When I first got inspired to try my hand at modeling (thanks to participation in a shoot with Anna, for her portfolio, and the strong opinion of my friends that I should model for American Apparel), I had to politely ask my friends with nice cameras if they would take pictures of me. I started building a portfolio, taking note of what poses flatter me. I posted them on my modeling network page (modelmayhem.com/gnat), and made "friendships" with local photographers.

Soon, local photographers were contacting ME, instead of the other way around! Previously, I have paid the requested fee to have photos taken by Beth Souza (modelmayhem.com/BLSimaging), but this time she easily agreed to do it for the price of film, per my suggestion. I'm supposed to have another TFCD / TFP (time for prints) shoot on Sunday, also photographer's suggestion. No word on time/place yet, though.

Anyway, here are some results from yesterday's shoot with Beth:



(Just finished the movie Humboldt County and feelin' a lil' nostalgic.)




Old friend

I just wish I could tell him that things are only bad if you don't do them yourself, and that the world opens if you let it. Not to be your own life's obstacles.

Hopefully soon this will all become clear.


Meet Kpop's newest fan.

I have to preface this by saying I know next to nothing about Korea (except that Kim Jong Il is one crazy sonofabitch). I don't know a single word in Korean, I'm not sure why there is a North and a South, and I certainly wasn't aware that Koreans make some of the catchiest damn dance music, rivaling that of Lady GaGa (I swear!).

Also, I didn't know they loved hip hop moves so much. Bajillion-member boy group (well, thirteen, I guess, but according to their Wikipedia page that makes them the largest boy band in the world) Super Junior's "Sorry Sorry" video is quickly becoming one of my favorites. I can't understand anything but "sorry sorry" in the song, obviously, and yet it has been superglued in my head all day. I love the perky dance that goes with it, and I wish they'd bust this shit out at a club, 'cause I'd be all up on that. It's so cute.

I tried my best to turn up my nose at Asian pop music (I mean, a LOT of it is really cringe-worthy) but alas, I lost the fight. I am a fan.


Dream sequence.

We (who was with me?) stopped at Murphy's Market, which became Richardson's in my head. I drove; Jorge was impossible to find in the parking lot. We reached the worn intersection to turn left, and it was confusing, but I knew what to do. except I didn't do it, and panicked, and crossed the median but overshot it and ended up in the other wrong lane. I thought it would reconnect but we ended up driving through a large stone roundabout, very British, to a fountain. I ducked into a cave where some apparently homeless men had instruments, and asked how to get back to where I was going. The British man had no idea and the less lucid one just stared at me. I wanted to go to Buttermilk Lane--the driving was all easy from there. "Baywood Golf Course?" I suggested. No luck. I thought I would just have to find my way back to the main road myself.

We (me and who else??) were in someone's house, two-story, older, painted white inside. I was distraught at not knowing how to get to 3291. I looked at a loose front tooth, bottom row, in the mirror. It was coming out. I let it, but that one didn't come; instead two others I didn't even know were loose fell into my palm. Then they kept falling. Tooth after tooth broke free in my mouth until it was full of teeth, which I dropped into my hand. They all looked like baby teeth but they weren't supposed to fall out. I didn't understand. I floss and brush! I never got to my destination.


unicorn fish



Beautiful video ...

Jeeze, I guess I'm just in the mood to cry lately.

Almost pau.

Are you allowed to pick your own ╩╗aumakua? If so, mine is the honu. Not just because I like it; because I feel it.

I suddenly realize the summer has not been a waste. Maybe I didn't get a job, and I have no money. But the best things I've done have been free.

I don't know how I ever could have forgotten that I climbed a mountain, but I am remembering in full force what I conquered, and that alone probably made my summer worthwhile. I felt a calm as I climbed every obstacle the trek had to offer, and my soreness for weeks after was a beautiful reminder of the strength I gained.

I learned not to fight waves but to duck and become enveloped in them.

I have embraced sand on my scalp and in every crevice.

I have swum with blue-fin trevally, yellow tang, moorish idol, triggerfish, parrotfish, Humuhumunukunukuapua'a, wrasses, puffers, eels, octopi, sea cucumbers, butterflyfish, 'ulua, and ... of course, honu.

On Monday, hold me to a promise to call about resuming Tahitian.

I suppose looking at the two-thirds of the summer already gone, it couldn't have been a waste. Because maybe next time I get lost amongst skyscrapers, or think I can't dance another day of Modern, I'll remember that I saw Honolulu from the top of Kaau Crater.

Is it weird that this made me cry?



I just spent hours playing online paper dolls.

So Kira got me hooked on this avatar maker again, and I have just spent a disproportionate amount of time making, basically, a virtual wishlist of clothes and hair I want. Here are the best outfits, which I saved to my computer:

And yes, the heart on the cheek is TOTALLY necessary.

Also ... I attempted my boyfriend.

All credit goes to eLouai's Candybar doll maker.


DIY Project: Recycled Bloomer-Style Underwear

The concept and instructions for this project came from threadbanger.com's video about Clare Bare's handmade, custom lingerie:

I used the pattern provided (Clare Bare Underwear Pattern), which I measured out with a ruler and freehanded.

Here is my pattern:
A note for next time, if I do this again: I would make the crotch area a bit longer, and make more of a curve for the leg holes in front.

I chose leftover, very lightweight cotton fabric from a previous sewing project (okay, so it's not EXACTLY recycled, but it's not new, either). I don't have a serger, so I skipped right to the hemming part:

A picture of my tidy seams.

This is the part I had the most trouble with, sewing the hem on the crotch curve. I'm not that skilled of a seamstress, so I'm not sure how you're supposed to make un-stretchy fabric lie flat on a curve ...

Last, I sewed on the elastic. There wasn't any fancy "purpley pink" scalloped elastic at our local fabric store, so I just went with some soft, stretchy 1/4" normal kind.

And, the finished product! They look TINY, but the elastic is extremely stretchy. They fit, in an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny bikini kind of way. And no, I won't model them.

"Forest Beauties"

Well, rainforest beauties. Here, a long-overdue link to the results of our photoshoot ...

(And--note to self: stop displaying your elbows.)


Neti Pot Review

The neti pot is my new hippie voodoo magic allergy solution. I got mine at the local natural foods store, where I found it underneath the sunscreen (don't ask me why it was there).

It's essentially a gravy boat-teapot hybrid made out of white ceramic (dishwasher safe!). On one end, a little handle, and on the other, a pointy spout that you stick in your nostril.

What you do is you mix up a little tap water & salt mixture for pouring through your sinuses. The pamphlet that came with it didn't exactly recommend iodized salt, but it's all we have, so it is what I've been using. I have found that the temperature of the water is highly important. Too cold, and it's shocking; too hot, and it irritates the back passages of my nose. I also don't put too much salt, because I think that adds to the irritation, and that's not the point.

What the salt and lukewarm water mixture is supposed to do is gently buffer up the mucus lying in wait back there and wash it out. Salt water is my new favorite remedy for everything. It's not only good for this purpose of flushing out your sinuses, but it also heals piercings, loosens coral out of scrapes in your knee, and cleans and heals bloody scrapes.

I'm pretty much a believer in the neti pot. It hasn't completely gotten rid of my allergies, whatever they are, as the testimonials on the box claimed it might. But I watch in the mirror as I'm pouring water through one nostril and out the other, and big globs of whitish mucus always come out in the stream. When I have run the water through once or twice each way, I can feel the air coming in through both nostrils. My sneezing is calmed for at least a little while, until the pet dander, vog, dust, and pollen have a chance to build up in there again.

I would recommend the neti pot to anybody with allergies who has an aversion to drugs and all things non-natural, like I do. But I would NOT recommend it to anyone closed-minded or who is afraid of uncomfortable sensations. This is because I think a large part of its healing depends on the individual's belief that it will help; you cannot compare it to prescription allergy medications. Also, it feels a bit like jumping into a pool without plugging your nose. My eyes water a little, and my sinuses sting ever so slightly. The most uncomfortable part is before the water starts draining through, and it is making its way past the threshold to where it comes out the other side.

I feel good about using it, though, and cleaner for it. You can blow into a paper tissue all you want, but that doesn't get back into the deepest recesses of mucus land. Also, the neti pot method leaves no tangible waste, just muck that washes down the drain. It is the green, natural alternative to standard allergy solutions.

The Making of a Monkey

Sock #1, with legs. Probably the creepiest, funniest stage.

Addition of arms and mouth. Thankfully from this angle you can't tell I put the arms on crooked.

let's hear it for the eaaarrssss

The finished product! I skipped the embroidery across the mouth, because I like the "crazy yell" look better than closed lips.

... and some fun photo-ops with my new Sock Monkey friend.